True Believers

by Maria Zannini

  His expression softened, and he adjusted his sling. “Perhaps when this is over, you will grant me a lord's wish.”

  Rachel wrinkled her nose at him, a perplexed smile on her lips. Despite his haughtiness there was a warmth in his charm that intrigued her. “What's a lord's wish?”

  With his good hand he pushed a stray curl off her cheek, sending a flush of heat to her skin. One finger slid down her face, following the curve of her chin.

  Was she blushing? It'd been a long time since a man had made her feel so self-conscious. But there was something more in his touch. It sparked a desire she had kept closeted for a long time. She wanted him. If only he wasn't so hurt.

  “On my world, when a man does a special service for a lady, she grants him a wish. The greater the service, the greater the wish.” A cocked smile lit his face.

  She laughed at him, a shy chuckle she wasn't accustomed to hearing. “I'm almost afraid to ask what this is going to cost me.” She kissed him on the cheek, a light buss, pressing moistened lips to warm skin. Her head tilted forward, a breath's touch from his, patting his good thigh as she got up.

  He caught her by the hand. “Be careful, little urchin.”

  “Worried about me?”

  “Of course. I would hate to lose you now. I have invested too much blood on your behalf.”

  He smiled, but it made her feel worse. If he died it would be her fault.

  “I won't be long. Stay put, okay?”

  Rachel rushed up the hill, more careful this time. She couldn't afford a second fall. Jessit was more than she'd expected and, after seeing all the injuries he had sustained, more than she deserved. She needed to get him medical attention and she knew a good place to start. When she had gotten past the ridge and away from his line of sight, Rachel grabbed a stone off the trail, throwing it with a curse.

  “Where are you, Gilgamesh? I know you're here.”

  A warm tingle at the top of her head spiraled all the way down her body. The air charged with micro-particles of electricity. Gilgamesh appeared in a wash of amber light, his long white hair gleaming against his tan unlined face.

  “Be nice to him, Rachel. He's a true believer. That's a rare commodity on this planet.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Do? I didn't do anything. He surprised me when I realized he could see me. He might be a distant relative of ours, perhaps a descendant of Anu himself.”

  “He's not an immortal.”

  “Well, technically, neither are we.” Gilgamesh danced around her, amused with the situation. “Don't you understand the significance of this alien? He thinks we're gods. Gods! Just like the old humans did.”

  He snorted a laugh that turned into a gagging, choking bark. His face contorted, taking on a pallid glow. His ghostly form deteriorated until it disappeared entirely.

  “Apa!” Rachel reached out to her father, but within seconds a wave of nausea overwhelmed her. She doubled over and dry-heaved an empty stomach.

  She braced herself, her hands trembling against a smooth stone outcrop, waiting for the sickness to dissipate. Tears tippled down her face while she slowly regained her composure. She spat, trying to void her mouth of the acid taste. Her head felt like it was going to implode.

  Gilgamesh rematerialized. “Are you all right?”

  She gave a feeble nod. “What happened?”

  “It's the flux I told you about. Several of the clan have experienced these waves before. Up until now they've only occurred around the equator.” Although Gilgamesh appeared whole once more, there was no denying the alarm in his voice.

  Rachel rubbed her fingertips together and formed a ball of energy. It teetered unwillingly, smaller than she could normally conjure. She looked up at her father, his face reflecting what she felt inside. “What the hell is going on?”

  Gilgamesh shook his head. “No one knows for sure. But all of this started when the global com-web went online.”

  Rachel scoffed. “It's only a communications grid. There's no way it's strong enough to incapacitate us like this.”

  “I would've agreed with you a few months ago. But these disturbances are occurring with more frequency and they're far more powerful than before.”

  Gilgamesh lured the ball of energy out of her hand and into his. It grew only slightly larger before collapsing. The grim look of impotence spoke volumes.

  He nodded his head toward the rise where she had left Jessit behind. “Perhaps these aliens can be useful.” His voice drifted, swallowed by the winds.

  “What if they're the ones doing this?” Her gaze scanned the ridgeline with apprehension.

  “I feel so exposed with them here. I don't like that they can see us in our ethereal state. It's dangerous.”

  “They're mortals, Rachel. They can't harm you. You're worrying yourself over nothing.”

  She pointed beyond the rise. “That one has a na'hala, or at least something similar. I felt it.”

  “Really?” Gilgamesh looked intrigued. “Did he recognize your presence?”

  Rachel shook her head. “I don't think so, but he's badly hurt. Maybe he didn't notice.” She bit her lip. “He saved my life.”

  Her father laughed out loud. “How terribly noble.”

  He made her feel foolish for even mentioning it, but it bothered her that this mortal, a stranger, had risked his life for her, and more than once. “Mortals don't use the sense they were born with,” she sniped back.

  Gilgamesh floated around her and purred into her left ear. “You think he acted recklessly?”

  “Yes,” she said, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Foolish?” he whispered in her other ear.

  “Yes. Yes.”

  “Compassionate?” Gilgamesh glided in front of her, the corners of his mouth turned upwards in a mocking grin.

  She looked up at him but turned away with embarrassment when their eyes met. “Stupid mortals.”

  “Perhaps. Or perhaps he feels that life is so precious that he could not let you perish. Don't be so hard on him. Compassion is a dying virtue.”

  Rachel sat down on the bare dirt and wiped her forehead. “I'm not doing so well, Apa.” She pointed to the ridge. “And he's even worse.”

  Paul slipped into her thoughts. She had to find him too.

  Gilgamesh knelt in front of her and touched her face. A soft blue glow radiated between them, the Nephilim equivalent of a hug.

  Buried memories flooded back to her. Gilgamesh's visits were plentiful when she was a child living in the home of the human parents who adopted her.

  They never saw the handsome white-haired man who sat with her every night until she fell asleep. They never saw him kiss her cheek, or heard him sing ancient lullabies. The Cruzes were oblivious to the ghost that guarded their very non-human daughter.

  Her whole life was a lie, even to the people who loved her. Was that why she couldn't commit to either clan?

  “I want to go home.”

  He stroked her head protectively. “I know, child. I'll see about driving the search teams toward you. As usual, they're looking in the wrong direction. For now, continue heading west. I saw a building of some sort in that direction.” He pointed behind him. “And stay close to this alien. We may need him before too long.”

  “But—”

  He put his hand up, the bony ridge of his left brow rising to a high oblique, and shushed her. “Do as I say, Rachel. I know what I'm doing.”

  Gilgamesh floated up then descended behind her. She thought he was leaning in for a hug, but he tricked her when he pierced her with his na'hala.

  Damn it! She shouldn't have let down her guard.

  “Just as I suspected,” he crowed. “It won't be long before you reach estrus. No wonder you're so emotional.”

  Rachel felt the blood rise to her cheeks but kept her curses to herself. Her heat cycle had been the root of several wagers, both on when she'd come into season and whom Gilgamesh would auction her off to for the breeding rights of First
Night. She winced. Not even her ethereal virginity was hers to give.

  The Nephilim didn't have husbands or wives in the traditional sense. The clan was small, and births were rare. After so many millennia, only a few hundred of them remained.

  Some became mates for a century or two before drifting on to others. It seemed likely every man and woman in their clan had been intimate with each other somewhere along their long lives.

  Rachel avoided her extended family for the most part. The idea of bedding with a man who had slept with her mother or even her father at some point in the past repulsed her.

  Human mores, Gilgamesh had scolded her. Such constraints were unnatural and unnecessary in an immortal. It was time she embraced her true heritage.

  Estrus would force her reintroduction into Nephilim society, and it terrified her. For all her bravado, she felt as alien among her people as she did among the mortals. Two worlds, and neither one was home.

  And now she was expected to consummate First Night, the most important union of all between a man and a woman.

  There would be many partners throughout her long life, but First Night tied her foremost to the man who clipped her ethereal virginity and merged that essence to his own. Every suitor wanted such a virgin. Claiming a virgin's essence increased his power—and his influence.

  The clan missed her first estrus when she was sixteen, due in large part to her mother's intervention. Siduri didn't want her daughter sacrificing her virginity at such a young age, so she urged her to run away from home until estrus had subsided.

  But that wasn't for Siduri to decide. Not only did she defy clan law, but her husband, as well. It had cost Siduri a daughter and more. When Gilgamesh discovered her crime, he exiled her on the spot.

  Rachel fondled the hollow of her throat, now barren of her mother's necklace. She hadn't seen Siduri since that fateful day. And Gilgamesh never spoke of it. No one in the clan did.

  Despite Siduri's best intentions, Rachel suffered for that decision. Going through the madness without anyone to quell the burn had been torture.

  Now, fifteen years later, she would get her chance again. Gilgamesh would make sure she bred this time.

  Rachel crinkled her forehead. She didn't want to think about who would bid for her, and who would enhance his essence with hers. It didn't matter. Breeding was no longer an option, but a mandate. They were nearly extinct as a species. Reproduction was vital to their survival.

  Rachel pulled away from her father and tried to keep her voice calm. Estrus could be days or even weeks away. She needed to focus on the present. “Can you find Paul for me? The humans plucked him off an escarpment before I fell into the drink.”

  He nodded. “I've already found him. He's at a military base not far from here. He has your mother's necklace. That's what led me to him.”

  “Is he all right?”

  Gilgamesh shrugged in disinterest. “He seems well, for now. I have a son installed at the compound. I'm sure he will keep your young man safe.”

  A spawn, she thought with reproach. How dare he call him son? Half-breeds were mules, unable to claim either race as their own. And Gilgamesh had sired more bastard abominations than any man in their clan, using them at will and discarding them when they no longer proved useful.

  She refused to dwell on it. Paul was safe, and that was all that mattered. The only thing left was to get Jessit and herself off this craggy plain.

  She looked up at Gilgamesh with uncommon bashfulness. “I'd like to pick my own suitors, Apa.”

  “Out of the question. That is for me to decide. We want children from this union, not sentimentality.”

  “At least pick a younger man, not an old crony you trade favors with.”

  “Many of the clan are anxious to see you up for bid.”

  “Because they missed the first one,” she said more to herself.

  “Because you are my daughter.” He kissed the top of her head. “Your cousin Dahlia is close to heat too. But I suspect you will bring a great deal more to the bidding table. Either way, it will be a glorious reunion.”

  Rachel scoffed. Dahlia was only a teenager, but age meant little to immortals. She felt the brush of ethereal fingers on her cheek.

  “Stay close to Jessit, daughter. I will come for you soon.” His voice drifted in the wind.

  Rachel flailed her arms above her head to try and touch him. “Wait! You're coming here? In the flesh?”

  She held her breath, waiting for an answer, but Gilgamesh was already gone.

  Rachel heaved an exhausted sigh. The auction for her virginity was to occur in Spain where many of the clan spent their summers. But Gilgamesh was coming here. She gulped. That meant they were all coming here. For her.

  Chapter 4

  West, he said. This region was unfamiliar to her, but it was as good a direction as any at this point. Gilgamesh had barely gone when Rachel caught Jessit hobbling up the ridge using a thick knotty branch as his staff.

  “I told you to stay put.” She ran toward him and slid to a stop, a spray of pebbles and dust bouncing up and down the trail like popcorn.

  “You were gone a long time.” Jessit scanned the area suspiciously. “And I thought I heard voices.”

  “You're hearing things. It's the heat.” She wiped the dust from her face. The late afternoon sun baked the desert with the last of its rays. “There might be an aid station on the next ridge. Do you think you can make it?”

  He shaded his eyes as he looked up at the unforgiving sun. “You have been promising an aid station all day.”

  “Yeah, I know. But really, it should be close now. Trust me.”

  He gave her a look that said otherwise. “Lead on, woman. I have nothing better to do with my time.”

  They didn't have to travel far. For once, Gilgamesh had spoken truly. Rachel snatched Jessit by the arm when she saw the telltale red clay tiles on the roof. “That's it!”

  Jessit winced when she grabbed him. Rachel sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Oh! I'm sorry.” She stroked his hand gently. “Did I hurt you?”

  “Yes.” The word stretched out through gritted teeth.

  She hurried him as much as she dared, but the closer they got, the more the station looked abandoned. One of the window shutters flapped idly on a broken hinge. The trail leading to the building lay riddled with weeds and an overgrown grove of agave and prickly pear cacti.

  “Hello! Anybody home?”

  Silence. No one had been here for months, maybe years. There was little chance for food or water, but at least it was shelter. Rachel motioned Jessit to follow her. She opened the door slowly. There was no reason to startle a horde of rats, or worse, a skunk.

  Something skittered away when she opened the door, but for the most part they were alone. Rachel's shoulders slumped, defeat gnawing at what was left of hope. They could've really used a break.

  “I'm sorry, Taelen.”

  She opened cabinets and drawers and pulled out anything left behind. It wasn’t much. A small skinning knife, a box of damp matches and three empty food canisters made the bulk of their haul.

  Jessit lifted off the thin, dingy mattress and peered at something underneath the metal springs. “Rachel.” He pointed to an ammo box under the bed frame.

  She lugged it out and opened it. Score! Inside was a heavy rubber bladder with emergency water and a small medical kit. The expiration date on the water was over a year old. Flat water was nasty-tasting, but it would keep them alive. She handed it to Jessit.

  “It won't be very palatable, but it's still potable. Drink.”

  He took a sip then handed it back to her. “You too.”

  Rachel pretended to take a drink but didn't swallow. He needed it more than she did. She took another look around. “I guess this is home for a while.”

  “At least we are out of the elements,” Jessit said blandly.

  “It'll still get pretty cold tonight. We have a potbelly stove but no wood and no way to cut any with this little
bitty knife.” She sighed. “Why don't you keep looking in here? There are some edible plants outside that I can harvest and if I find any dry kindling, I'll get that too.”

  Things were still grim, but at least the prickly pear and agave would keep them alive a day or two longer. Rachel scouted the perimeter but it seemed no one had been here for a while.

  There were a few scraggly trees and the deadwood provided an armload of tinder for a fire.

  She scoured every inch of the immediate area and dragged what little fallen timber she scavenged to the door. Then she cut an armload of prickly pear, aloe and agave and gingerly hauled them back to the station.

  When she opened the door, she was startled to see Jessit with a new cache of finds. There was a metal grate, a pie pan and an old wool blanket.

  “You hit the jackpot!”

  He frowned at her. “Is that good or bad?”

  “Very good.” She opened the door wide and dragged in her found bounty. “It won't be fancy, but we'll eat tonight.”

  Within minutes she started a fire in the old stove. As expected, the matches refused to light. She resorted to a little subterfuge and gave it a boost of energy to ignite the kindling.

  They'd have a little heat—at least for a while. Rachel made Jessit rest while she sliced up the prickly pears and agave.

  She roasted the cacti pads in the pie pan, with a drizzle of sweet liquid from the agave. It wasn't much, but it would fill two empty stomachs.

  He smiled at her warmly. “I may keep you after all.”

  She laughed. “I'm glad you approve. I'll make some more as soon as we finish this batch.”

  “Perhaps we should ration it.”

  “Why? Are you afraid we won't be found?”

  He shrugged. “We cannot be sure of anything at this point.”

  “We have plenty. Don't worry. Eat.”

  She tossed the scrapings into the coal box and allowed the fire to consume them. They were still sorely in need of water, and she squeezed out all the liquid she could from the agave into the pie pan and offered it to Jessit. “This might be a little more palatable than the water from that bladder. Try it.”